Goodbye, So Long, Adieu
by Belladonna Lee
Summary: DMHP Slash. Sequel to Born to be Blue. On the day of the memorial, Harry runs into Draco in the cemetery once more. Farewell to the living and farewell to the dead are not the only farewells one could say in this world.


Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and its characters are not mine. The song _Adieu _belongs to Kanno Yoko.

A/N: I know I've said that I would post this when Harry's birthday comes around. But seeing as book 7 will be out before then, I really want to post this first. So, consider this as an extremely early celebration of Harry's birthday, and in a very unconventional way at that.

**Goodbye, So Long, Adieu**

Leaden overcast sky was like an impressionistic pencil sketch; the misty rain was like layers after layers of curtains made of small crystal beads; and the granite headstones were like slabs of unfinished stones that sculptor had yet to put his final touch upon.

Before one of the stones stood the black figure of Harry Potter, who stared at the name etched upon the gravestone in silence, as though wanting to burn the image into his mind. Water was dripping down his chin and onto the ground where his best friend laid in rest forever. A single bouquet of daisies was laid on the grave, its yellow petals drooping from the heavy rain; Hermione Granger had come by to visit before he did.

This place always brought back too many memories, memories he cherished and memories he cursed, memories he thought he had forgotten and memories he wished to forget. But as always, there was one image that was the most vivid, that had haunted him ever since that day years ago: the fallen body of Ron Weasley lying lifelessly upon the bloodstained ground.

Amidst the never-ending string of rain patter, a series of steady footfall reached his ear; he did not need to turn around to know who it was. The footstep halted in front of the grave some distance away from Ron's, and the sound of rain striking upon an umbrella was accompanied by rustles of a wrapped bouquet being placed before the headstone.

Without turning his head, Harry glanced at the young man who had straightened up from his half-crouch. As if sensing his gaze, Draco Malfoy turned to regard him for several heartbeats, before nodding once to him in greeting. Harry gave him a small wave in response, his meadow green eyes taking in the sight before him.

Plain white shirt and dark trousers; pale hand holding a black umbrella; white lilies laid before black headstone: it was all black and white. The usual sharpness in Draco seemed to be washed away by the rain, and what was left was a faint air of melancholy lingering about him, which surprised Harry. Had Harry been standing closer to Draco, he would have noticed those ashen grey eyes mirrored the stormy sky.

Not fully comprehending why, Harry felt comforted yet troubled by Draco's presence: comforted because Draco would never ask about his well-being, and troubled because Draco had given him a cryptic non-answer to the one question that had been weighing on Harry's mind.

In deliberate strides, Draco left the grave of Severus Snape and came over to join Harry before Ron's grave. Snape and Ron were both killed in the same battle, therefore the Order deemed it appropriate to lay them to rest in the same burial ground, along with others who had perished on the same battlefield. The Weasleys had no objection to that, and Draco, who took up the task of settling Snape's affairs since Snape had no known living relatives left, also agreed to it. Sometimes, Harry wondered if Ron or Snape might have been annoyed by the arrangement. They held nothing but mutual dislike towards each other when they were alive; Harry doubted they could get along in death.

"You are early," Harry said mildly as they stood side by side, Draco's umbrella shielding him from the merciless rain. Now that Draco was closer, Harry thought he saw a hint of weariness around Draco's usually shrewd eyes.

"So are you," Draco replied while gazing at the daisies on the ground. Those bright yellow petals were beaten down by the rain and slowly darkened to a shade of subdued sunshine. "I did not take you for an early riser."

"And I thought you would be at the office by now," Harry countered.

"I want to pay my respect." Harry did not figure Draco to be the sentimental kind; then again, the puzzle that was Draco Malfoy had always been difficult to decipher. "Before the rest of the crowd arrives, that is."

The same thought had crossed Harry's mind when he decided to come here at dawn. Today marked the anniversary of the end of the war; it was supposed to be a day of quiet reflection. However, it was a sentiment the Ministry did not agree upon. There was to be a war commemoration taking place not far from the cemetery this afternoon, with all the pomps and fanfare. To Harry, using the day of memorial as a political vehicle was a blasphemy to the memories of the deceased.

"Are you going to the memorial ceremony?" Harry asked absently while pushing the damp hair away from his face.

"No, I've made up an excuse not to attend," Draco replied as he gazed into the foggy distance; Harry wondered what it was he saw, the past or the present.

"You are not going?" A fleeting look of bewilderment appeared on Harry's face. "Aren't you afraid those stiff shirts might hold it against you?"

There was a ghost of a smile lingering on Draco's lips, a smile that seemed oddly wistful to Harry's eye. A sudden, but not unfamiliar, impulse to chase away the shadow lurking about Draco crept into Harry's mind once more.

"It would be inappropriate for me to attend the commemoration, seeing as who my father was." Draco's voice was steady and strong, yet how much sorrow and bitterness lay beneath these words? It was impossible for Harry to imagine the hardship Draco had endured to obtain the position he now occupied.

Harry had no comforting words; all he could do was stand alongside Draco in the rainy graveyard, listening to the pitter-patter of rain striking the umbrella, a sound not unlike a rippling melody of the gentle piano.

"Do you still want to know?" Draco suddenly said, his voice grown more quiet than usual. "Why I saved you back then."

Turning to face Draco fully, Harry regarded him with narrowed eyes, not once noticing rain was beating on his shoulder. "You are telling me now? Why here? Why now?"

"I cannot lie in the presence of the dead. And besides, I think it is time for me to let bygones be bygones." Draco held out the umbrella for Harry to take, but Harry did not accept it. Raindrops, like tears, were sliding down Draco's pale cheeks. "If I hadn't done that, you would have died."

A flashback of that unbearably vivid scene appeared in Harry's mind once again: Draco pushing him onto the ground, Ron's hasty warning, and then, a woman's voice yelling the incantation of the Killing Curse. Closing his eyes for several heartbeats to cast the memory aside, Harry opened his eyes to stare at the hazy figure of Draco Malfoy. Slowly and intently, Harry spoke, "But Ron might have lived."

"Perhaps, perhaps not," Draco pushed the handle of the umbrella into Harry's hand. "We shall never know." Then, taking off the ring on his ring finger, Draco gave it to Harry. "Here."

Harry recognised the ring as the Malfoy family's signet ring. From the very moment they met, Draco had always worn it, and never had Harry seen him take it off before. "Isn't this the ring your father gave you?" Harry asked as he held the ring to the light, confused by Draco's gesture.

"I want you to keep it." It sounded as if there were words Draco had left unsaid, and somehow, Harry could tell what they were. Mercury grey eyes were clouded as if out of focus, yet there was the same wry smile gracing upon those pale lips. "I suppose I should leave now."

Turning on his heels, Draco strolled along the path as Harry watched under the sanctuary of the umbrella; Draco's warmth still lingered on the handle of the umbrella. Rain continued to fall, its sound like the murmurs of the dead beyond the grave; and the lonely figure was slowly vanishing into the mist of rain that seemed to connect to the Otherworld.

Stricken by a sudden fear, Harry abandoned the umbrella and ran in haste to where Draco was steadily disappearing into. Catching Draco's arm in a firm grip, Harry forcefully steered Draco around. "You are cruel, you know that?" The cold silver ring was digging into Harry's palm, but Harry hardly cared.

As shock gave way to something Harry could not fathom out, Draco reached out to lightly touch Harry's cheek; his touch was cold yet comforting. "Your cheek is cold."

Harry gave a dry chuckle and said, "So is your hand." No lies in the burial ground, that was what Draco had told him. Mirroring Draco's gesture and caressing Draco's wet cheek, Harry brushed his lips against Draco's, a kiss bitter as tears yet sweet as rain.

In the misty cemetery, where the sky was ashen grey and the earth was mossy green, the dead watched the scene before them. Their faint whispers ever so softly faded away into silence, and the only sound remained was the patter of the rain showering upon the two figures, who did not part for a long, long time.

* * *

_Finis._

A/N: I think that out of all the stories I've posted so far, this is the one that actually has an implied happy ending. But considering the setting, this story is still quite depressing. _Adieu, _the song where I got the title of this fic from, is a favourite of mine. And once again, thank you very much for reading and reviewing my fics!


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